


Tokyo Man

by psychotortoise



Series: Death Note Ballet AU Stuff [1]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7387702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychotortoise/pseuds/psychotortoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Light Yagami looks like a city, L thinks – he is more beautiful from far away. L convinces himself this is not poetic."</p><p>A quick one-shot about the ballet AU before I start the multi-chap (if I ever start the multi-chap).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tokyo Man

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write, I'm absolutely in love with the ballet AU.

L stares out a window in a bar on the less reputable side of Tokyo. He is here because he is tired and he’s convinced himself that if he fills his stomach with alcohol he won’t have to think about his life anymore. The city is cold and dark up close and cigarette smoke and light pollution fill the streets like fire. Maybe from far away the city glitters like stars, but from a bar on the less reputable side of Tokyo, it does not.

He meets Light Yagami a few minutes later. He convinces himself this is not poetic.

They’ve never spoken, but L’s seen Light around before: backstage before performances, practicing in empty studios; he’s seen him dance. Light has a certain air of elegance about him on stage – his steps are soft and quick, his toes flit across the stage and it’s almost as if he’s attached by invisible strings to the ceiling. Light’s one of those few male dancers who can pull off pointe work. It’s incredible, in L’s eyes.

Light is less elegant off stage, though: he’s far too small. He stumbles into the bar, already slightly drunk, his face looking much more sunken than it does under stage makeup. He sits and his body contorts itself into what might have been a perfect tangle of bricks and bars if he weren’t made of flesh instead of concrete and metal. He looks like he might have been crying, but it’s difficult to tell.

L stands. He’s drunk, Light is beautiful, and he’s sure neither of them will remember this encounter in the morning, so he pulls a stool up next to Light Yagami and offers to buy him a drink.

Light accepts.

“You’re Light Yagami. I was a choreographer in Tokyo Ballet’s _Unity at Midnight_ ; you danced very well. My name is L. Lawliet.”

He nods. He puts out a hand, and L shakes it. He has a firm handshake, but not firm enough to be rude or intimidating. It feels too much like a lie, like an empty hotel room.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Lawliet. I admire your work.”

Light somehow says just the right thing – not too little to imply he doesn’t respect L, not enough to get into a conversation. He’s painted his words into perfectly crafted architecture, out of metal and concrete. L is sure that if he took them apart, he’d find moss growing between perfectly polished stone.

“Thank you,” L says as the bartender makes his way across the room. He sets a drink in front of Light – some sort of vodka, L thinks – and Light sips from it a little too hastily.

“Are you working on any new productions?”

It’s the next natural question.

“I’m going to perform in _Rite of Spring_ in August, but we’re just getting things in order at the moment. I haven’t even gotten my role yet. But, I’m looking forward to it.”

This isn’t a dance to show off pointe skills, which surprises L. He’d expect Light to choose something more his style – much less real, much more like a city from far away.

“I take it you’re a Nijinsky fan?”

He nods again.

“I love _Faun_ and _Til Eulenspiegel_ ,” he says, which are more like him. “And I admire his pointe work. He’s one of my idols.”

L is not surprised. In fact, Light reminds him a bit of what he’s read on Nijinsky: Strong and beautiful on stage. But off stage, something seems slightly wrong – like he’s in the wrong place. Like his body is filled with pollution and not air.

“I’m not surprised.”

“Thank you.”

Light tips his glass, draining the last few drops until all that is left is ice.

“Do you dance?”

He buys him another drink.

\---

Rain trickles down gutters and through streets, and the smell of wet asphalt fills the city. L’s boots crash through puddles and Light’s neatly-combed hair falls limp against his too-pale face. They walk seven blocks in the rain: they discuss music theory, they tell stories, L choreographs each step he takes.

Light is shivering by the time they make it to L’s apartment building, so he pins him against a wall and kisses him until his face is a little less blue and a little less painted in rust and train tracks.

\---

They are in L’s studio.

“There is something wrong with you,” L says against Light’s lips.

He sighs and his breath smells like alcohol and cigarettes, and L thinks his eyes look like they’re too lit up by the city. The window behind them is open and it blows air through the studio, mysterious gusts of wind sneaking up the sides of L’s apartment like ghosts. Light’s mouth tastes like ash.

“I don’t know what it is, Light Yagami, but I know it’s there.”

Light kisses him again, and L isn’t sure if this is to shut him up or if he’s caught him in a moment of desperation. L traces the circles under his eyes and his caved in cheeks, he runs a finger down Light’s jawline and it’s remarkably thin and remarkably smooth. It feels like skyscrapers.

“I want to take you apart and find what’s making you hollow.”

A sharp breath against pursed lips, and Light leans in more. With his body pressed up against Light’s, L realizes just how thin he is for a dancer. He is muscular, strong, powerful, but he is too small. Maybe he literally is hollow like an abandoned subway train.

He feels a tear trickling down Light’s cheek, and wipes it away with spindly fingers.

Light Yagami looks like a city, L thinks – he is more beautiful from far away. L convinces himself this is not poetic.


End file.
